


this is Happy

by screamingarrows



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, brief mention of drunk driving, brief mention of partner abuse, could be Happy/Tony if you ship it that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingarrows/pseuds/screamingarrows
Summary: "I don’t know what I would do without this job. I mean, before I met Tony-"A story of how Happy becomes, well, happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written in the early, early mornings when I got off work and has been unbetad. I read through it a few times but if yall see anything super annoying let me know! Hope you like it! 
> 
>  
> 
> TW mentioned in end notes

 

The first time they meet, Tony’s nearly drunk enough to black out. He thought Rhodey was the designated driver, Rhodey thought he’d hired a designated driver. They’re 25 and Rhodey’s home on leave; they’re celebrating. They come stumbling out of the bar, Rhodey holding his phone up in the air like he has poor service and not a drained battery and Tony is in just the right mood to think everything is hysterical, much too funny to think about offering up his own cellphone.

They’re prepared to wander the streets until a cab is willing to take two rowdy drunks home, when Tony spots a man digging his keys out of his pocket. Tony hits Rhodey excitedly in the arm and chest, blindly swatting until he thinks he’s gotten his attention and he stumbles across the parking lot.

“Hey!” he calls out and erupts into giggles when he can hear Rhodey behind him asking, “What in the hell are you doing, Tones?”

“Hey,” he says again, slightly more forced. The man looks up. His face is severe, but he looks vaguely nonthreatening and besides, Tony trusts Rhodey to keep him safe.

“Hi.” Tony finally makes it within talking distance and the guy is looking at him with a cautious air. Tony can hear Rhodey behind him and he leans against the hood of a car parked beside him.

“Are you sober?” Tony asks and the man stays silent. His keys jangle in his fingers, frozen half in the lock on his door.

“You got a phone?” Rhodey asks, slowly, considering the weight and shape of each word to avoid slurring.

“Uh, no.”

Tony beams at the response, happy to be acknowledged at least peripherally.

“Are you sober?” he asks again and tries to speak as slowly as Rhodey, elongating the words that don’t need elongated.

“Sober enough.”

Tony glances over at Rhodey and the two look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“That’ll have to do,” Rhodey says and leans against the same parked car Tony’s leaned on. Tony steps forward, the lack of his weight makes the car shift and Rhodey jostles.

“I am prepared to give you a hundred dollars if you can take us home.” He tries to look serious, but his lips keep quirking into a grin. The man still doesn’t react other than to eye the two of them uneasily.

“I’m not a taxi,” he says, finally, after several long moments of silence.

“Five.”

“You don’t have five hundred dollars,” the man counters quickly. His faces slides into one of disbelief and it has Tony determinedly digging through his pockets for his wallet. He pulls it out and with clumsy fingers, pulls out a wad of cash.

“You’re right. I have,” he pauses, and thumbs through the bills as he counts. He’s never been so drunk he couldn’t handle numbers and when he looks back up he feels as though some of the fog in his mind is cleared. “Seven hundred. It’s all yours if you can take us home.”

Tony holds the money in his hand and wiggles it in the air. It’s obvious the man is warring with himself and Rhodey puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Hey, man, we don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. We’ll walk,” he says and loops his arm around Tony’s shoulder. Tony spins obediently on his heel and sways. Rhodey raises his other arm to Tony’s chest to balance him and the two lean their heads together and laugh, finding something impossibly hilarious about their situation.

“Wait,” the man says before they so much as get two steps away. “You’re way too drunk to walk. Gimme your address.”

Tony spins on his heel again and then jerks to a stop. His face pales and the man points a finger at them. “You better not throw up in my car.”

He unlocks the door and they move to the car once Tony has his bearings.

“I can hold my liquor,” Tony says as he slings himself into the backseat. “I’m Tony.”

“Harold,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat. Rhodey leans forward and claps a hand on Harold’s shoulder, surprising the man and making him flinch against the door.

“Rhodey,” he says in introduction. “Listen man we appreciate it.”

“It’s,” Harold pauses, looking at the two in the rearview mirror as he starts the car. “Not a problem.”

The car grinds to life and Tony winces, but just closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the seat.

“I’m gonna need an address,” Harold says as he’s pulling out of the parking lot and Tony can hear Rhodey give out the familiar numbers of his apartment, not Tony’s. He shifts so he can lean his head against Rhodey’s shoulder. Suddenly, he’s so tired he can’t keep his eyes open.

He remembers sliding his wallet into Rhodey’s hands, confident the man will give Harold the money he’d been promised, and drifts.

\-----

The second time they meet, Tony just runs into him on the street. He’s walking fast, trying to outpace reporters without looking like he’s running away, when he sees him through the window of a deli. Tony only vaguely recognizes the round face and curly hair, but he gets the same sense of relieved safety he gets when he sees Rhodey, so he ducks into the doorway and with a quick quip, dodges the reporter on his tail.

The man looks up at the sound of the bell ringing above the door and Tony smiles at him, gives him a slight wave.

“Hey! How’s it going?” Tony asks and the man only tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Tony hates being ignored and fights down the urge to make a face and instead goes and sits across from him.

“Henry, right?” The man’s eyes tighten and Tony takes off his sunglasses, spinning them in his hands. “No,” he says, pondering. “Is it… Harper? No, no that’s not right either. Ham…burger.”

“Did you just ask if my name was Hamburger?”

“It’s a joke!” Tony says at the tone. “Clearly you love to laugh.”

The man sets his sandwich down and Tony watches in dismay as he starts to wrap it back up.

“Hey, come on, Mr. Happy. Just give me a hint. Am I right with the H’s at least?”

The man ignores him and Tony sighs, exasperated. He’s not sure why he feels so intimately comfortable with this man, wonders just how many times they’ve met while Tony’s been completely wasted, but he does. “Come on, Happy, help me out!”

Happy moves to stand without a word and Tony turns in his seat as he walks out.

“ _Happy!”_ he calls out, but is only met with the chime of the bells on the door.

\-----

Without any real way of contacting him, Tony’s left skulking around the bar and deli he’d seen Happy at.

“You know this is kinda creepy, right,” Rhodey says one day when Tony makes him stop by the same deli for the fourth day in a row.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you.”

“I’m just sayin’, the guy made it pretty obvious he doesn’t want to be bothered.” Rhodey pauses to order his sandwich and when he looks back over, Tony’s sunglasses are on but he’s holding himself in a way that screams deliberately casual.

Tony changes the subject and they eat at one of the wobbly tables near the window.

Happy doesn’t show.

\-----

He really isn’t trying to look for him when he finds him again. He’s in a long-backed car and he just glances up from his phone and out his window when he sees him. He’s jogging, hands waving to flag down the bus that’s leaving him. He comes to a stop and he just looks defeated, shoulders slumped and face in a tight frown.

“Hey, stop the car,” Tony says and slips his phone into his pocket.

“Sir?”

“I said stop the car,” Tony replies. He’s not sure what it is about this man that draws Tony’s attention, but Tony’s eyes don’t leave him as his driver dutifully pulls up to the curb. Tony rolls down the window and leans out.

“Hey! Happy!” he calls out and Happy jerks in surprise and then his face gets even tighter. “Need a ride?”

Happy hesitates and Tony kinda wants to demand to know what his problem is.

“Come on, I know you do! Get in; I owe you one.” Tony leans back into the car but not far enough that he disappears from view. Happy takes slow reluctant steps to the car.

“You already paid me, I don’t think you owe me anything.”

“My God, just get in the car,” Tony says, pulling on the handle and pushing the door open. Happy sighs, and realizes he has no other choice unless he wants to be late, and climbs in. He’s bigger, in the car; his broad shoulders taking up more space than he should.

“I don’t know why you’re so determined to avoid me,” Tony says after a moment of quiet. “We’re practically best friends.” He says it mostly to get a reaction from Happy and succeeds. The man gives him a bland look and Tony presses on. “We hung out at a bar!”

“I drove you home,” Happy corrects.

“We had lunch!”

Happy opens his mouth to protest, but then closes it. Tony beams at the win.

“I don’t think meeting twice qualifies someone as a best friend.”

“Happy, I’m hurt.”

“Mr. Stark—”

“Tony.”

“ _Mr. Stark_ ,” Happy says again, firmly, and Tony, again, corrects him.

“So I get to call you a nickname, but you won’t even call me Tony?”

“You gave me a nickname because you don’t remember my name,” Happy says in a tone that’s painfully patient, like it’s taking everything in him to remain calm.

“ _Harold_ , you don’t really think that, do you?”

Happy opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.

“Ha! So admit it— we’re friends!”

“We’re not.”

“But we will be,” Tony says, radiating confident positivity.

Happy sighs and looks out the window in exasperation.

Tony’s phone buzzes in his pocket and as he reaches for it, he gets the idea. He glances at the screen before sliding it to Happy.

“Here,” he says, “put your number in. I’ll text you.”

Happy hesitantly takes the sleek phone in his hands. “I don’t text.”

“ _Everyone_ texts. It’s the new thing.”

“I don’t,” he tries to insist, but Tony’s persistent and just nods with his head, looking far too hopeful, so Happy types his number in, pressing the buttons carefully before he hands it back. Tony smiles and slips it back into his pocket, but before he can say anything, the car is pulling up to the curb at Happy’s destination and he slips out the door with a soft, “thank you”.

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
Hey Happy!

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
This is your number, right? Didn’t give me a fake?

 **Sent: Happy**  
This is TS

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
This whole friendship thing only works if you talk back

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
Hello?

\----

 **Sent: Happy  
** I assume since I never get a reply this is really you

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
I'm starting to take this personally

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
You won’t believe the day I’ve had

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
Hey Happy!

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
You’re nickname ought to be “Grumpy”

 **Sent: Happy**  
Get it?

\----

 **Sent: Happy  
** Want to grab lunch?

\----

 **Sent: Happy  
** This board meeting will be the death of me

\----

 **Sent: Happy**  
Want to go out tonight? I need a drink. Meet at the usual place?

 **Received: Tony  
** I don’t think one meeting counts as a usual place.

 **Sent: Happy  
** So you have been getting my messages!

 **Sent: Happy  
** And it totally counts as a usual place

 **Sent: Happy  
** Will I see you there?

 **Received: Tony  
** I’ll be there.

\-----

They’ve met up a few times and Tony has a standing order in his planner to keep Thursday’s once a month open to meet Happy for drinks. Tony’s never one to turn down booze and it’s in a bar that’s just on the wrong side of smart, gritty enough that he’s not followed and not cared about—not to mention he actually enjoys Happy’s company. Occasionally the man will drink a little too much, get a little too loud and open and Tony _loves_ it. Mostly Happy drives him home, but on nights like that, Tony’s all too pleased to call a cab.

But tonight, it’s nearing an hour past the time Happy normally shows up and Tony’s pulled out his phone a handful of times, glancing at the empty screen and opening the messaging file to scroll through the numerous unanswered texts.

He’s debating on whether he should call when the door opens and a gust of cool air blows the smoke around his head. He looks up and sees Happy in the doorway. Tony raises a little in his seat, gives a wave like Happy would miss him sitting in his usual spot. Happy visibly pauses in the doorway upon seeing him before he slumps his shoulders and comes in. He’s got dark sunglasses on, but a bruise mars his face and as he gets closer, Tony can see the dried blood just under his nose and on his shirt collar.

“Are you alright?” Tony asks immediately, but his voice is low. He knows when to be discreet and he knows if he draws too much attention, Happy will spook. Tony’s concerned enough for him that he won’t push him to that.

“Fine,” he answers, voice tight. He waves the bartender down and orders a beer. Tony nods for his own refill and turns so that he can see Happy’s profile. He doesn’t take off his sunglasses, despite the dimness of the bar and Tony frowns at the way Happy’s hands tremble when he grabs the bottle from the bartender and brings it to his lips.

“So,” Tony says, prodding a little. “How was your night?”

“I got into a fight, Tony,” Happy says with a sigh. “Can we just drink?”

“Sure,” Tony says and falls quiet. It’s strikingly unusual and both Happy and Tony notice, but neither comment on it. For an instant, Tony wishes Rhodey were here. He’d know what to do and say in this situation. He’d know how to get Happy comfortable enough to talk about whatever is clearly eating at him.

Tony’s eyes fall back to Happy’s hands and the tremors that run through them and up his arm. He sees his knuckles and notices how they’re bare of bruising or cuts.

He knows you don’t get into a fight and come away with nothing to show on your hands.

Tony’s mind races at the information, but he sits quietly and drinks at Happy’s side.

\-----

Tony tries to chalk it up to a fluke, tries to justify and believe Happy really was in a fight and was just knocked out before he got his first hit in, but he _notices_ things. That’s what he does. And he notices when Happy flinches at unexpected contact, notices the way he keeps his eyes downcast when voices raise, notices the way his phone will beep and he always takes a sharp breath before he checks it.

He notices, and his stomach turns to lead because he knows he has no way of helping unless Happy asks him to.

\-----

Opportunity strikes as two thieves.

Tony’s tipsy and clumsy and when one of them grab his arm, he spins but doesn’t have enough motor skills to pull away. A spike of fear cuts through the buzz in his brain, but then he blinks and Happy’s grabbing the wrist of the guy holding him and yanking Tony free in one even motion. Tony watches as Happy moves and disarms the men before swiftly knocking them unconscious.

He’s breathing heavily and his knuckles are split from punching one of them in the face, but Tony can’t stop staring at him with wide-eyed appreciation.

“Come on, let’s get to the car,” Happy says and grabs Tony to lead him to the car. His eyes roam over the parking lot, just in case there are more people who want their asses kicked, and he pushes Tony into the passenger seat before walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

“Do you want a job?” Tony asks, the moment the car grinds to life. Happy just rolls his eyes and quickly maneuvers them out of the parking lot. Happy doesn’t say anything and neither does Tony, too caught up in re-watching the action in his mind to realize that the drive home has been silent until Happy pulls up to the curb.

Tony starts to pull on the door handle before he stops and looks over at his friend.

“Hap,” he says, voice soft. “Thanks.”

Happy cracks a rare smile. “Have a good night, Tony,” he says in lieu of anything else.

Tony smiles back. “You too, Happy.”

\-----

Tony wakes up the next morning and sends a text before he gets ready for the day.

 **Sent: Happy**  
I’m serious about the job offer.

Tony sets his phone on his dresser and starts to walk out of the room before it rings to life and he jumps back to it. He glances down at the screen and bursts into a smile.

**Incoming Call: Happy**

\-----

Tony sent down the request for Happy’s salary and immediately the phone on his desk rings. He lets it sit and debates on letting it ring until they give up, but ultimately the sound grates on his nerves and he picks up the receiver.

“Mr. Stark? This is Jacob Thomas in HR, I think there was a mistake on a form—”

“Nope. No mistake.”

“Sir,” the voice is patiently demeaning. “We don’t pay our drivers this much.”

“Mr. Hogan will double as my driver and my personal bodyguard. I think the figure I sent is more than acceptable for the job’s requirements.”

“Sir, he has no training, no references, no qualifications that indicate he can perform this job.”

Tony cuts him off again. “He doesn’t need references when he’s already saved my life once.” Well, that’s an overreaction, but Tony feels suddenly protective. His voice is biting when he continues, “I believe that’s qualified enough.”

“He’s not with an agency. We really must insist we can’t offer this much.”

“Mr. Thomas, is it your name on this company?” Tony asks, voice dangerously low.

“No, sir,” Jacob replies and his voice is much more hesitant than it was earlier.

“Is it your name on the checks _my_ employees receive?”

“No, sir.”

“Then do not argue with me about the salary I intend to pay someone to keep me safe.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony feels vicious satisfaction twist in his gut at the attitude shift.

“If that’s all, Mr. Thomas, I would appreciate the paperwork filed before the end of the day.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony hangs up the phone and spins in his chair, a grin working its way on his face.

\-----

Happy’s working for him for two months before he comes in, face beat to hell. Tony’s heart races with thunderous rage, but Happy shuts down completely when he asks.

Tony works at keeping him busy. Happy comes to work tired, morose, quiet; and then slowly, he changes. As the weeks pass, Happy becomes confident, becomes commanding. It’s like he’s finally filling into himself.

The morning Happy makes a sarcastic joke at Tony’s expense is the morning Tony laughs until tears fill his eyes.

\-----

Tony’s an asshole. He’s also drunk and running on the angry adrenaline he gets every time he’s forced to interact with Tiberius Stone. He has a headache and he sent for Happy to bring the car around what feels like hours ago and the man is nowhere in sight.

He paces, trying to work out the fire coursing through him and he sees his car rounding the corner and pulling up to the curb. Tony stalks to the car and gets in before Happy can get out and open his door.

He tries to calm his racing heart, but he’s his father’s son and anger grips him tight and refuses to let go. He grits his teeth. If he can’t calm himself, he can at least try to minimize the damage.

Tony doesn’t know what happens, because he has his eyes closed and is rubbing at his temples in attempt to ease the ache between his eyes, but suddenly the car swerves and he’s jerked to the side, smashing his head against the door.

“Goddamn it. Happy, you’re fired,” he growls out between clenched teeth and rubs at the now tender spot on his head.

The rest of the ride is silent and smooth and when Tony gets home, he slams the door shut and goes inside without a word.

\-----

Tony wakes with a hangover and nausea twisting his stomach. He rolls out of bed and fumbles for the pants he’d worn last night, reaching into the pockets and pulling out his cellphone to check the time.

“Good morning, Sir,” JARVIS’ voice blasts through his head and Tony flinches and waves off the lights JARVIS flicks on.

“Shh, please,” he grumbles and squints down at his phone.

He has three missed calls from Obie and two from the Board. He curses and remembers the very important meeting Obie had warned him against missing.

Grabbing his head, he presses in the numbers for his assistant’s number and leans against the side of his bed.

“Mr. Stark,” Pepper’s voice comes out sharp and Tony sighs.  
“How much trouble am I in?”

“Too much to specify,” she replies and Tony groans.

“Are they still there?”

Pepper hesitates. “Yes.”

“Stall them. I’m on my way. I’m sure Happy’s waiting downstairs already. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think—”

“Pepper, come on, do this and you’ll get a thousand-dollar bonus.”

“Fine,” she says with a sigh and then the phone clicks and hangs up.

Tony goes to his bathroom first, grabbing the migraine medicine from his cabinet and downing them dry. He gives himself a moment to catch his breath and then goes to his closet to pull something together.

He stumbles out and forces himself to stand straight until the medicine kicks in. He walks out the front doors and then pauses in confusion when he doesn’t see the sleek black car parked in front of his building. He blinks and looks down the street before his eyes fixate on the vacant curb space.

Slowly, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone, redialing Pepper’s number and bringing his phone up to his ear in a daze.

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, Happy’s not here.”

“ _What_?”

“He’s not here.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“He didn’t call off?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What do you mean, _not that you know of_? You mean he’s _missing_?”

“I hardly think an adult who didn’t show up for work qualifies a missing person.”

“You don’t know him like I do. He wouldn’t just skip.”

“Tony…” Pepper says warningly and then sighs. “I’ll send you another car. I’m sure he’s fine.”

The phone clicks silent and Tony brings his hand down to hang at his side. Concern stabs through him and all he can think about is the way Happy’s face was beaten and swollen when he’d shown up to work months ago.

He pulls up his phone and scrolls through his contacts to find Happy’s number and dials. The phone rings and rings and Tony waits to be diverted to a voicemail, but it doesn’t happen. The man struggles with technology enough, it shouldn’t surprise Tony that he didn’t have it set up, but it only makes the concern grow stronger and weigh heavily in his chest.

He hangs up and fiddles with the phone in his hands until his car arrives.

\-----

The meeting felt endless, partially because of the relentless apologetic persona he had to master during it and partially because he couldn’t stop thinking about where Happy was.

When the meetings finally adjourned, Tony quickly avoids Obie and hides in his office, instructing Pepper to keep everyone out, no exceptions.

He sits at his desk and tries calling Happy again, the ringing over the line grating on his nerves and making him tense against his will. Frowning, he hangs up and pulls up Happy’s employee paperwork, looking for an address.  
Swiftly memorizing the address, Tony grabs his jacket and throws open his office door, only to jerk to a stop inches from Obie’s chest.

“Tony,” Obie says, voice low and disappointed. “We need to talk.”

“No time, gotta run.” Tony says side-stepping him and looking over at Pepper’s desk.

“Pepper, hold all calls and reschedule anything going on today. I have something important to take care of.”

Pepper’s eyes flicker to Obie’s, but she nods just the same and her hand goes to his appointment book without looking.

“Anything else, Mr. Stark?”

Tony slows and gives her a tight smile. “That’ll be all, Miss Potts.”

“ _Tony_ , we’re going to talk about this,” Obie says, voice crossing the room easily.

“Sure thing,” Tony says as he nears the elevator. He presses the button and it slides open and Tony nods his head at Pepper again. “Feel free to schedule an appointment. Pep, get him on the books.”

Something wild flashes across Obie’s face, as something amused flashes over Pepper’s, but the doors close before either can say anything.

Once in the garage, he grabs the keys to his favorite car and drives with determination.

The apartment he’s led to is shabby, but not terrible. Tony parks on the curb and with a cautious glance around, slides out and half-jogs up to the door. He knocks, waits, and then knocks again when the door isn’t immediately opened.

“Happy? You in there, buddy?” Tony calls as he knocks harder. He’s startled, when his hand cuts through air and he sees the doors been opened, revealing Happy dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants.

“Happy?” Tony asks again and is stupidly relieved at seeing Happy’s face unmarred. “Hey, you sick?”

“What?”

“Are you sick?”

Happy pauses and frowns. It’s an expression he wears often, but it’s rarely one _directed_ at Tony anymore.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I… What are _you_ doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Well, obviously.”

“So, what are _you_ doing here?”

Tony frowns and shakes his head. “Why aren’t you at work?” he asks and Happy’s face gets even more severe.

“You fired me.”

“ _What_? I did no such thing! You’re my friend, Happy! I don’t fire my friends.”

“You fired me last night on the ride home from your conference.”

“I—” Tony starts in defense, but then a hazy memory surfaces and his mouth falls open. “I fired you?”

Happy’s eyebrows jerk like he’d been thinking something snide and Tony frowns. “I can’t fire you. You’re not _fired_. You can quit, but short of a breach in contract I can’t fire you.”

Happy doesn’t move and now Tony’s chest aches for an entirely different reason.

“Happy. You’re one of my closest friends. Don’t quit.” He’s well aware of the plaintive tone his voice is taking, but he can’t help it. He can’t lose Happy over something so trivial. Happy stares at him and Tony’s about to resort to an actual apology when the man sighs and his posture relaxes.

“Well, if you’re prepared to beg I guess you need me more than you let on.”

Tony feels light with relief and when he smiles, it’s wide enough to squint his eyes. He reaches forward and pulls Happy into a brief hug before letting him go and stepping back.

“I was worried about you, you know. Was this close to contacting the FBI,” Tony says and holds his fingers up to demonstrate a small gap.

“You have to wait 24 hours to file a missing person,” Happy says in lieu of anything else and Tony grins.

“That’s what people keep telling me, but hey, I’m protective of my things.”

Happy’s mouth parts like he’s going to protest, but instead he closes it and smiles at Tony. It’s one of his rare, warm smiles and Tony feels giddy in the face of it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tony says and Happy nods.

“Yes, sir,” he replies and Tony gives him a cheeky grin before turning to go back to his car.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's this little epilogue of sorts bc I wasn't sure which ending i liked! hope you enjoy

It’s months later and Tony’s even more drunk than before, but this time he’d been at a party he’d wanted to attend and when he falls into the backseat of the car, he’s giggling. It reminds Happy of the first time they met and he keeps an eye on the rearview mirror.

“Tell me if you’re going to throw up,” he says, “I’m not in the mood to clean the interior tonight.”

“Oh, _Happy_ ,” Tony says, voice high and light. “I can hold my liquor, you know that.”

Tony leans his head against the window and Happy’s cautious to make his turns slowly.

“Just let me know,” he says shortly and is answered with a burst of laughter. He doesn’t even want to know what thought just ran through Tony’s head.

He gets him home safely and he listens as Tony struggles to open the door. With a short sigh, Happy jumps out and opens the door for him, grabbing Tony to prevent him from spilling out into the street.

“Have you considered just, drinking less?”

“Have _you_ considered having fun?” Tony quips back. Happy doesn’t say anything, but he reaches into his pocket for his keys and unlocks Tony’s door. He’s half tempted to just leave him there and let him spend the night in his walkway or struggle to get to bed on his own, but Happy knows he’ll never hear the end of the complaints if he just leaves Tony there. He leads him into the house and into the darkened bedroom, keeping a firm grip on Tony to prevent him from falling or darting off into whichever direction he wanted.

Happy takes him to the side of the bed and lets him fall unceremoniously into it. He shifts a giggling Tony onto his side and props up some pillows at his back to keep him that way. Satisfied Tony won’t die on his own, Happy moves to leave, but is stopped when Tony reaches out and grabs his arm.

“I do need you, you know,” he says and all trace of giggles are gone. He’s serious, heartfelt despite the amount of alcohol he’s taken in. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll never have to find out,” Happy replies in a moment of honesty, courageously earnest in the confidence Tony will be too drunk to remember in the morning.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“G’night, Happy,” Tony mumbles into his blanket and Happy smiles at the unconscious form of his employer and friend, before leaving and locking the door behind him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I had the idea of a fic where it was a "5 times Tony fired Happy and the 1 time Happy didn't believe him" fic, but it wasn't working the way I wanted it to and then I saw Spiderman Homecoming and they really made Happy nervous about job security? for some reason? but it made me want to write something about how Happy met Tony and thus this is born. 
> 
>  
> 
> TW there's a brief allusion to drinking and driving and there's the implication Happy is in an abusive relationship.


End file.
